


sing a song for california.

by highwaytune



Series: Killjoys Concert AU [3]
Category: Danger Days: The True Lives of the Fabulous Killjoys - My Chemical Romance (Album), The True Lives of the Fabulous Killjoys: California (Comics)
Genre: 11pm tagging is never a good idea, Alternate Universe, Concert AU, Concerts, Gen, I can't write songs so I used lyrics from preexisting ones lol, The Fabulous Killjoys (Danger Days) Are Not MCR, don't take this as rpf-y because of that though, i just think they fit these scenes/characters well ok, performing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-02
Updated: 2020-12-02
Packaged: 2021-03-09 22:13:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,203
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27833584
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/highwaytune/pseuds/highwaytune
Summary: obscured faces and songs that seem so familiar even when you're hearing them for the first time. let's rock and roll, baby.
Relationships: Agent Cherri Cola/Kobra Kid (Danger Days), Fun Ghoul/Party Poison (Danger Days), Jet Star/Show Pony (Danger Days), all are implied/referenced/whatever
Series: Killjoys Concert AU [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1836169
Kudos: 5





	sing a song for california.

**Author's Note:**

> \- the title references boy division by my chemical romance.  
> \- again, this isn't intended to be rpf-y in any way, shape, or form, i'm simply bad at pulling song lyrics out of my ass so i picked some songs i like to include in the piece.   
> \- this was originally written way back in june, and i'm posting it now to clean some stuff out of my drive.  
> \- the songs i mention here are make room!!!! by my chemical romance, highway tune by greta van fleet (which if you are going to listen to in order to get a feel for the piece, i highly recommend the 2018 live in toronto version on youtube since that was what i was aiming for while writing this), and tomorrow's money, also by my chemical romance.  
> \- i cbf to properly reformat/edit/proofread lol. direct copy/paste with the links for each song left in because they're kinda nice.   
> \- some brief allusions to drugs/alcohol but nothing graphic at all  
> i've talked enough. let's do this, yes?

Killjoy concerts are always off-the-walls, crazy, bat-shit, stupidly addictive -- whatever you want to say, there’s a million words for them. Isn’t that common knowledge by now, though? But truly, no matter how much you hear about a concert, you cannot fully understand all of the hype until you experience it for yourself.   
  
**_OPENER. [_**[ ** _♫_**](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jq0GmUaJM-w) ** _]_**  
The concert starts off with the microphone screeching out the horrible, cringe-worthy sound of feedback. Arc stands with a hand on their hip, tapping their foot expectantly until they can tell everyone is looking at them: waiting, watching, _aching_ for the band to fire up into their instruments and begin their drug-like performance. That’s how they always start things, but this time the need for attention lasts for only a few (very long) seconds before Arc waves the crowd off and signals the rest of their friends to get ready. 

  
“This one’s ‘Make Room!!!!’. _Four_ exclamations, thank you,” Arc practically spits the words, running their hands through their hair and flourishing into action as heavy instrumentals begin to echo. Payola’s drumsticks hit the tight head of the drum rhythmically, and that alone is enough to rile up everyone on stage as well as in the crowd. Supernova and C-4 collaborate to bring the song in with guitar that sends a reverb through everyone in the venue, and Cyberia heads in not long after with an iron-heavy bassline. 

  
The feedback on the microphone is just enough to not be annoying now, and Arc launches into action like a firework, neon hair flying in every direction as they dip between instruments and equipment all while keeping the microphone close to their lips.

  
“ _Make room! Make room! Down on the coffin, there's a coffin or two! Dead chic, so cool! The cannibals are starving when they're looking at you!”_

 _  
_ Of course, the crowd that was gathering was probably twice as large as it had started off as -- and populating by the minute. Killjoy concerts featuring these four are hardly ever announced much earlier than a few hours before the show, but word spreads so quickly out here that zone rats flock like sheep to the sites. If you really try, really pray, maybe you could get from the edge of Four to the site in Three in half an hour to make the end of the concert. 

  
Seriously, this song is a fantastic opener. The way the instrumentals blend together so perfectly yet stay so raw, the way Arc’s voice is accompanied by both C-4’s and Supernova’s, and the stage presence in general is enough to make a killjoy _sweat_. Arc is animated as ever, walking among their bandmates and interacting with each of them just to get a reaction. Supernova first -- Arc grins and reaches up to tug at a stray lock of Nova’s hair before ducking away, leaving Nova confused and slightly irritated as he turns back to his guitar. Passing on to Payola, Arc hits the drummer’s cymbal with their hip, turning to the crowd and acting shocked as a stray _crash_ sounds among the sea of instrumentals. Payola shakes his head, channeling the urge to roll his eyes into the way he played instead. C-4 and Arc are a completely different story than the rest -- as much as Arc loves (and I mean _fucking adores_ ) pissing off C-4 just _because_ , they can’t bring themself to do anything like that tonight. So instead, Arc sticks a little closer to C-4, ghosting their hands across his jacketed shoulders as they continue with the rest of the song. Now, Arc and Cyberia have a tendency to get into, um, _altercations_ at the slightest notions on the worst days, but Arc figures that since Cyberia had been in good enough spirits before the show, a little bit of messing around won’t be too much of a death sentence. Arc tousles Cyberia’s hair and twists the closest tuning peg just a little, causing Cyberia’s current note to go sour.

  
_Uh oh._

  
Cyberia draws in a sharp breath, dark hazel eyes fixing on his sibling. A shiver runs down Arc’s spine, and they aren’t sure if it’s from the cold seeping through their tank top or that look, but they continue to sing anyway. Even as they move back to their own side of the stage, they still feel Cyberia’s sort of... _energy_ radiate across the stage -- _he’s pissed_ , they think. 

The song changes for a moment, but Arc can’t figure out why until they peel their eyes away from the swarm of motorbabies to look. The bassline disappears entirely as Cyberia stops to examine his instrument, with one side of his headphones pushed back and his free ear leaning close to the guitar. 

  
Phew. No onstage Arc-Cyberia fight tonight, it seems; just Cyberia quietly retuning his bass and attempting to fix his hair. Although, Arc isn’t really sure how Cyberia could even be mad -- his hair had been a mess even before Arc had laid a finger on him. Whatever, right? They have bigger things to worry about, like the end of the song and how they were going to send it off right.  


“ _ Everybody wants to change the world, everybody wants to change the world, but no one, no one wants to die! … Make room! _ ”

  
As the last syllable leaves Arc’s lips, they strike a pose, satisfied by the fact that the bassist had been able to return for the final bars. The crowd erupts into a series of whoops and cheers and applause, and Cyberia has never been more thankful that he remembered his headphones this time. Last time had been hell; he’d been given a life lesson entitled ‘ _noise sensitivity and concert performances do not mix_ ’ within the first ten minutes of the opening song. By now, though, he’s fired up again, the frustration at his sibling fading away as he recalls what the next song on the setlist is scheduled as. The remainders of his frustration mix with anxiety and some anticipation -- he’s set to help with backing vocals in this one, for the first time since....since….well, he can’t remember, but that’s besides the point, isn’t it?! Arc crosses the stage gingerly and claps a hand onto their brother’s shoulder, squeezing it as a silent apology.  


Cyberia nods, a silent ‘ _it’s fine_ ’ reaction, before running a hand through his sweaty hair and readjusting his headphones as he nudges his sibling’s arm out of his space. It’s not hostile in any regard, though -- just Cyberia being a little bit difficult as he so likes to do.   
  
The concert continues seamlessly, with fan-favorites and experimental pieces alike running through the amps and speakers. The first few songs are always a little rocky, and tonight is no exception. By the middle of the concert, the band is in full swing and complete harmony with each other, flowing from one song into the next without much of an intermission. 

  
**_MIDDLE SET. [_**[ ** _♫_**](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5m-lJb69wrs) ** _]_**

“‘Kay. We’re callin’ this one ‘Highway Tune’. Not sure where we even picked this one up, or if one of us wrote it drunk or something -- I sure as hell don’t remember writing it, that’s for sure, but Cyberia’s  _ aaaaaalways _ stuck on it in rehearsals so I guess  _ we’re _ stuck with it on the setlist. Cool. Ready?” Arc asks, raising an eyebrow at nobody in particular before sending off another signal to their bandmates. 

The song begins in an explosion of sound, particularly guitar again. Supernova and C-4 are standing a little closer on the stage now, completely in sync as Supernova cuts through C-4’s renowned sound-walls, creating a mandala out of an intricately-designed slate. Cyberia’s completely fixated on just playing for the first few bars before he realizes he’s supposed to be helping vocalize on top of that.  _ Shit. _ Whatever, right? He pushes back one side of his headphones, cringing at the sudden intake of sound before he trades his rhythmic head-bobbing for halfway-hesitant vocal assistance. There’s no real words, which he’s thankful for, nothing to stumble over or stutter into, just vocalizations and the accompaniment of his friends’ voices and their instruments alike. It’s a little bit difficult at first to adjust to both playing and trying to keep up, but after a few bars he finds that he’s just fine. After the initial intro of the song is over, he doesn’t need to help out again for a while anyway, so he steps back from the microphone stand and takes to the back of the stage instead. He’s in a mood to be a little bit irritating, the lasting frustration from earlier melting into mischief as he slips off to tease Payola.

The song’s lyrics start off with something almost out of Arc’s range (more of a glorified shout than words, though), a smooth transition from guitar into strong vocals. Arc’s fingers tap the microphone stand as they sing, keeping a steady rhythm and allowing them something to hold true to through all of the music.   


_ “Oh, mama!” _

Again, the crowd goes up into flames, cheering and headbanging and not tearing their eyes away from the band onstage, completely entranced by any and all activity lit up by bright stage lights that might have been a sign from a higher power.   


“ _ No stopping at the red light, girl, 'cause I want to get your signal. No going at the green light, girl, 'cause I wanna be with you now. You are my special, you are my special- you are my midnight, midnight, yeah! _ ” Arc’s persona is back up, and they’re feeling particularly antsy just standing. Even moving around in their little corner of the stage isn’t cutting it, so they pick a very logical course of action that they know will garner even more attention from the crowd, if not start something bigger. They look around, trying to decide on the target of their second round of teasing. As if given a sign, Arc is drawn to Cyberia’s face, and they can see the faraway look in his eyes, the way he stares out at nothing with blind concentration.

Thank the Witch that Arc is so good at multitasking. They cross the stage again, twisting the microphone’s cord around their fingers as they step closer to Cyberia. A grin washes over their face, and they can see Cyberia’s mouth quirk up into a half-hidden smile. Arc’s fully aware that Cy can see them, then. ‘ _Good,_ ’ they decide. ‘ _He’s back to being himself, at least._ ’ 

Arc doesn’t dare to touch Cyberia’s guitar this time, instead opting to knock their hip against his. Cyberia’s a lot better-prepared than Arc expected, though, his awkward stance proving beneficial for once. Cyberia grins and flips his hair back, sticking his tongue out at Arc before returning his focus to the microphone.   


Arc can see the concentration on Cyberia’s face, the way his eyes slip shut to block out everything unnecessary, the way his eyebrows furrow together when he’s trying to hit the right pitch, the way he seems a little more relaxed here than even in practice.

As a parting gift, Arc skillfully maneuvers a sneakered foot next to Cyberia’s and steps on the lace, successfully pulling it free from its knot without another word. The lead singer sails smoothly over to their side of the stage yet again, the pure energy in their veins sparking something primal.

Supernova’s eyes have been set on Arc since they had taken to messing with Cyberia, and Nova can tell that Arc needs a second to breathe. So, without much warning, Nova nods at Arc before launching into a guitar solo with C-4 hot on his heels. Nova finds himself completely enveloped by playing, unsecured curls flying in every direction and obscuring his face. He looks ethereal -- godlike, in a sense -- when he plays like this, because he’s totally separate from everyone else in this moment. Everyone’s eyes are on him, and he’d never admit it, but he loves the attention. He never goes out of his way to garner attention in the way that Arc does, but Nova doesn’t mind the feeling that courses through his veins when he plays like that. It’s refreshing, energizing, absolutely addictive. It’s what Nova looks forward to most of all -- sure, he could give you the cliche answer of loving to be surrounded by his friends and playing with them, or he could give you the real answer, -- the adrenaline is the best part.   


Arc’s electric. They step forward again to the microphone and clip it back onto the stand, revitalized to the very core by Nova’s impromptu guitar solo and ready to get back into the swing of things. The instrumentals of the end of the song shake them up, urging them on as they await the final line delivery. Although the room seems a little empty without any vocals, Arc decides, kicking their shoes against the stage as a silent question to their bandmates. Arc practically pants into the microphone, eyes closed and neck craned up to see the tall ceiling of the venue.    


Whereas in rehearsals, Arc is more on top of things with smooth vocalizations, tonight they feel a little more out there, daring to chop up the vocals instead. One long bar becomes several, a usually-hushed line becoming a strangely, um,  _ awakening _ staccato. Their lips are close to the mesh of the microphone, and they have no trouble filling in the static of the guitar lines with “ _ ah-ah-ah _ ,” syllables that float off their tongue as they remove the mic from the stand yet again. Because, well, you know. Arc can’t keep that damn thing in one place for very long. It’s like his stage gimmick, like how Payola literally refuses to wear shoes for anything, no matter how much Cyberia leans onto him and  _ pleads _ .    


Arc takes a few long steps towards C-4, opting to finish the song in close proximity to the guitarist. C-4 feels the weight of Arc’s head on his shoulder and sighs halfheartedly, grinning through his mock annoyance. Although, no matter how hard C-4 tries to keep his cool, the way Arc delivers the final line sends a shiver down his back.   


“ _ Oh, sugar! _ ”   
  


The audience needs a moment to process that last C-4/Arc interaction, it seems. But after the silence and the almost-tangible ‘did that really just happen?’ feeling in the air settle, the crowd is erupting again like a volcano, bodies pushing against each other and arms waving in the air and soles of shoes squeaking against concrete. Sure, the middle of the concert had been perfectly soundtracked and even more perfectly performed, but there’s still room for more songs before the closer, isn’t there?   
  


CLOSER. [[♫](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NkMdWLK5RPg)]  
“Alright, ready? We’ll be wrapping it up here, soon, I think,” Arc shrugs, clipping the microphone back into its stand. “This one’s ‘Tomorrow’s Money’, which I’m _almost_ certain some of you’ll recognize from the last time we introduced it.”  


And with that, Supernova is coming in strong with C-4 again. Nova’s already zoning in on getting his part sounding as flawless as ever while C-4 keeps a steady rhythm, driving the music forward. Cyberia’s falling back into his habit of bobbing his head, greasy blonde strands falling into his eyes and obscuring his vision just a little as he waits to come in. Payola’s already gearing up for a spectacular show of drumwork, lifting his hands above the top of the kit and nodding each time the drumstick hits the head. Arc grins and grabs the mic stand with both hands, throwing all of their remaining energy into this closing number as they howl the lyrics into the microphone. Around them, their bandmates grow more erratic, crazed energy radiating through the room among each killjoy.   


“ _ You fell in love with a vampire! You wanna get it for free? Then say hello to the brush fire, baby! You gotta take it from me, I’m gonna take it from you! _ ” Arc’s eyes are squeezed shut, but the smile on their face is unmatched by anybody that’s not on stage, because really, how could it be? Sure, attending a concert is great on its own, but the satisfaction delivered by performing is infinitely more fulfilling for these four.

  
The sheer level of sound in the room is enough to make your ears bleed, make your teeth rattle in your mouth, make your heart skip a couple of beats. That said, if you really focus, it’s not too far from possible that you could see the sound shake the very air it’s running through, feel the waves of guitar and bass and drums and vocals make the world around you ripple, _taste_ the notes as they slide out of the speakers. It’s everything and nothing, and it’s hard to break yourself away from the haze of being here. Because at some points, it feels like you’re sitting in the middle of nowhere hallucinating from dehydration from all of the lights and colors and sounds that envelop you entirely in this moment. 

But you  _ are _ here, I promise. It’s not over yet, because these four are still playing their closer. Can you see it? See the way Arc grips the microphone with white knuckles; see the way C-4’s hair falls into his eyes; see the way Supernova taps his foot to keep a handle on the rhythm; see the way Cyberia’s long fingers maneuver across the frets as he plays; see the way Payola grins wildly as he goes absolutely  _ ham _ on this drumline. 

C-4’s getting a little restless for this damn thing to be over so the band’s little afterparty can kick off. He’s jumping around by now, boots leaving the ground as his fingers glide across the strings of his guitar. The audience is, of course, immediately enamored by such a quick change in pace from C-4’s earlier presence. Going from a relatively tame playing style to a more frenzied one is no huge surprise when it comes to C-4 -- he’s unpredictable in a million ways on concert nights.   
  
“ _If we crash this time, they got machines to keep us alive. When the mixtape plays, choke down the words with no meaning!_ ” Arc’s eyes snap open to glance around at their bandmates again, noting each one and how they’re dealing with the fatigue that has inevitably begun to set in. So far, it seems like they’re all holding up okay, at least for now -- who knows which one of them will drop on the way home? 

Supernova’s seemingly fixating on one face in the crowd, and no matter how hard Arc tries to see which one it is, they can’t quite tell. ( _ Spoiler alert! Nova’s found T-Stop’s spot and hasn’t looked away since three songs ago. _ ) A stupid grin is permanently fixed to Nova’s face, and if you squint hard enough I’m sure you could see the hearts in his eyes and the stars spinning around his head

Payola’s lost in the energy of it all, the  _ move-move-move  _ mentality flowing through his veins quicker than anything he’s ever had. His eyes are fixed on the drums, only coming up once or twice to glance around every so often. Nights like these are few and far between, but Witch, does Payola live for them: the chance to transform all of that pent-up frustration into bars of pure sound? Absolutely perfect -- and it gives the rest of his friends the safety of another day without getting snapped at for the smallest of mistakes. 

Cyberia’s as energetic as ever, lined eyes flicking around to glance at as many faces as he can while still keeping himself in the moment to play and provide backing where Arc needs him to. He can almost see the light, the opportunity to crank out one last note and shed his jacket as they clean the stage off. It’s not that he doesn’t love to perform, no; simply that tonight has been more draining and he’s still a little on edge with Arc.

Arc takes an ambitious step, pulling the microphone out of its stand once again. Cyberia feels that familiar panic bubble up in his chest, but he pushes it down for the time being. He doesn’t want to blow up on stage, because just how embarrassing would  _ that _ be, right? The last time anything like that’d happened was awful -- killjoys wouldn’t shut up about it for weeks to come.

Cyberia turns himself to face his sibling, trying to force a little smile, but he doesn’t have the energy at this moment in time. Arc’s unaware, of course, gliding closer as if floating all while keeping up the energy by moving and gesturing with their singing.

Arc makes a split second of eye contact with their brother, scanning his face for any sort of indicator that ‘ _ now is not the time _ ’. Cyberia’s trying to convey just that, or at the very least a ‘ _ can this wait? _ ’ with a clenched jaw and furrowed eyebrows. Now that Arc’s picked up on Cyberia’s lasting aggression, they've backed off a little, taking to annoying C-4 again in place of their brother.

Arc prepares the final lines smoothly, letting them practically slip off their tongue as they stand a little too close for comfort to C-4: “ _ Because rebellion's not a t-shirt you sell, You keep your money and I’ll see you in hell! _ ”

Then Arc’s speaking again, though they’re halfway drowned out by the roar of the crowd and the collision of boots with concrete. “Tonight’s turnout was fantastic, and ‘s much as we’d love to stay, sun’s comin’ up soon and play a few more for y’all, we’ve gotta get outta here ‘fore Crows crash this party. We’ve had fun -- and we hope you did too! G’night, tumbleweeds,” they grin, kicking their sneakers against the stage as the venue goes dark. 

After that, there’s the shuffle of an indefinite number of people trying to get out of the venue at once as the building is bathed in soft white light, just bright enough so that the band can get their equipment back to the van as quickly as possible. 

The back door of the van slams shut, leaving two of the remaining band members to lean against it. There’s just silence between them, accompanied by unspoken insults and un-asked questions.    
  


_ Finally _ , Arc speaks up. 

“Why’re you in such a shitty mood tonight?” They snap, pushing neon hair out of their eyes and hugging themself in an attempt to stay somewhat warm. 

“I’m not,” Cyberia says simply, leaning against the van’s exterior to cool down. “Just tired of you pushin’ my buttons all the time, is all. There’s other ways to get their eyes on you, y’know?” He sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose to ward off the headache creeping into the back of his skull.

“You coulda just  _ told _ me that, smartass. Besides, I fuck with everyone during concerts, and they never give me cold shoulders afterwards. Take a hint from Nova, Cy: straight-up walked away with a handful of his hair once ‘n he didn’t bat an eye.” Arc shrugs, stretching their arms up toward the stars.   
  


“Okay? What do you want to hear? An apology?” Cyberia sneers, letting his jacket fall off his shoulders. “Want me to say, ‘ _I’m sorry, Arc, I’m_ so _sorry for being a little put-off by you fucking with my equipment halfway into a piece_ ’? I’m not sure why this is ev-”  
  
Before Cyberia can finish, Arc shoves a finger into the hollow of the bassist’s chest. It’s clear this isn’t going to end pretty, is it now?   
  


“Witch, Cy! You’re no fun anymore!” Arc spits out finally, expression somewhere between disgust and confusion. “You’re always off someplace, looks like -- can’t you stay in the moment?”

Cyberia opens his mouth to say something back, but is promptly cut off by a hand resting on his shoulder. The confusion overpowers the urge to throw a left hook right then, and Cyberia turns his head to be met with Supernova’s stern ‘ _don’t you fucking dare_ ’ glare.   
  
“Fine,” he breathes, shrugging off Nova’s hand and disappearing into the van. C-4 emerges from the front seat and takes Arc’s hand, melting off some of what’s left of Arc’s anger. 

The drive home is quieter than usual, but at least it seems that everyone’s found their place for now. Arc’s driving and C-4 is in the passenger’s seat, holding their hand across the console as Arc nods along to the radio. T-Stop has joined the crew as per usual and is sitting in the middle row with a sleeping Supernova, running their fingers through Nova’s hair as the post-concert tiredness begins to seep into them as well. Payola and Cyberia have colonized the backseat, making soft conversation as they lean onto each other’s shoulders. 

The usual adrenaline rush is spoiled a little by Cyberia and Arc’s little scuffle. Nobody has the heart to say anything, to ask questions, even to congratulate each other. That’ll wait 'til tomorrow, they decide; the serious stuff’ll come after the concert hangover wears off, if any of them remember fighting after that. Whatever -- for now, just focus on whatever rock song is flowing through the worn-out van speakers and getting home without experiencing a clap in the process. 

**Author's Note:**

> original ending note:   
> this one was originally titled ‘dead chic, so cool!’ and was intended to have a much more impactful ending, but i lost interest in finishing it so here’s my half assed attempt. sorry concert au fandom, this one took me almost a week -- and i still don’t like it -- but i’ve kept it from you all too long to feel okay about scrapping it lol <3 it’s almost 4am. i’m fuckin beat and can’t be bothered to edit this.  
> xoxo cyrus <3
> 
> thanks so much for reading! you can tell me what you thought on my tumblr cherrikisser. peace out for now. ::)


End file.
